


Tactics

by Ivy_Brooks



Series: Jailbait [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Castiel Talks Dirty, Cock Tease, Dirty Talk, Jealous Castiel, Light Bondage, M/M, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom, slight somnophilia (implied), sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivy_Brooks/pseuds/Ivy_Brooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean chats up a woman in the hopes of making a couple of good connections for Bobby's autoshop, and inadvertently dooms himself to the hands of one very jealous twink in the process. </p><p>(In which, Cas ties Dean to the bed and rides him. Hard.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, this happened. Its been a while, I know, but this literally only just hit me inspiration-wise, so I can only hope ya'll like it ^-^

Dean straightened the collar on his plaid button down, shifting on his feet as the mechanics' convention swelled into full swing. Well, as ‘swing’ as a mechanics' convention could get, anyways. Clientele and potential business partners were all having lovely, boring, amiable conversations with each other, making deals, forming partnerships, sipping weak alcohol – all this above-board legal shit that Dean didn’t really care about. How Bobby had roped him and Cas into this, he’d never know. 

Well, that was lie. He _did_ know how. A raise in both his and Cas’ paycheck was gonna be rewarded if either of them managed to get friendly with a couple other mechanic firms across the West. Cas - the sly motherfucker - was just as good as Dean was at buttering these people, if not better dressed in that black button down and those tight dark blue jeans. Dean couldn't go five seconds without vividly imagining the millions of ways he could rip those things off once they got back to his place. 

But, anyway, back on topic - a smile here, and suggestive little wink there; some of these people turned to pure putty in Dean’s hands. He was starting to re-evaluate his career as a mechanic – maybe he would’ve earned more as a door-to-door salesman. He’d already gotten a couple deals going for Bobby, and was currently setting up another one with this harsh-looking – but undeniably gorgeous – blonde woman. She had killer heels and her legs went on forever, and she was eyeing him up as much as he was her. 

“So, Ms Clarice,” he flashed her a winning smile, running his tongue over his bottom lip ever-so-slightly. She’d been toying with him for over half an hour, and it felt like he was close to sending her Bobby’s way, “Would you like to discuss this ah, a little more _in depth_ , at some point? My boss would be happy to arrange a time.”

She smiled at him, predatory and hot, and inwardly, he fist-pumped. Jackpot. Hook, line and goddamn _sinker_.

“I’d be happy too,” god, her voice was like smoke – all dark and curling at the edges, “If you buy me a drink.”

A drink turned into three and by the end of their little discussion, her hand was on his thigh and Dean’s mind was warm and buzzed at the edges. He leant in close to her ear, letting his lips just brush the shell of it as he spoke.

“I’ll see you at Singer’s Auto next week then, huh?” 

She squeezed his thigh in response.

“Happily, Mr Winchester.”

Scraping her perfectly trimmed nails down his leg, she slipped off of the bar stool and strutted back to her own group, leaving Dean grinning like an idiot as Bobby coasted up beside him, mouth open as they both watched Clarice walk away. 

“Boy,” he gruffed, “You’ve got a damn _gift_.”

Dean straightened his shoulders in a proud display, “Don’t I know it.” He agreed, before another thought crossed his mind, “Oh, hey, how’s Cas doing? Got any deals goin’?”

Bobby’s brow furrowed as he sat on the stool beside Dean; it was weird to see the man in a suit. Like watching a dog walk on its hind legs – kind of cool but not quite right.

“Kid left ‘bout twenty minutes ago. Said he felt sick.” Conspiratorially, Bobby leant forwards and lowered his voice, “Between you and me, that kid hasn’t got the knack you got for sweet talkin’ people. He took one look at you talkin’ to that fine woman Clarice over there and walked out. Probably felt like he couldn’t live up to your standard or somethin'.”

An anvil dropped in Dean’s gut. 

Shit, what the fuck had Cas thought? Did he – did he think Dean was gonna try it on with Clarice? Did he – oh shit, Dean’d fucked up. He hadn’t even been _thinking_ about Cas –

“Whoa, Dean, you alright?" Bobby's voice cut through the static noise, "You’re whiter than an Irish sunblock tester.”

Dean slapped the bar with one hand and stood. “Come to think of it, I’m startin’ to feel a little ill too. I’m – I’m gonna head home.” He stumbled a little as he walked away, “See ya at work Bobby.”

The car park was cold, and the interior of the Impala was even colder as Dean got in. Cas had obviously taken the bus, but where? Home? Dean’s apartment? He’d been planning on staying over this weekend, but now - Dean wasn't so sure. 

Guilt spread like a poison in his gut. Hopefully Cas would understand that it was all just tactics. 

\---

When Dean got home, Cas was there, snuggled up in Dean's bed, reading a dog-eared copy of Slaughterhouse VI from Dean's own book shelf, quiet and calm. Eerily so. He didn't even look up when he offered his 'good evening' as Dean walked in. 

"...Hey." Dean said warily, feeling the eggshells crack underneath his bare toes as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, "You, uh - you feelin' alright?"

"Fine." 

Castiel licked his thumb and turned the page, silent. 

The bedside clock ticked. 

Dean felt his death approach. 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, sitting on the edge of the bed like it would collapse into a hellish abyss with the added weight, and Cas would laugh at him all the way down.

Blinking back images of Cas' cackling face illuminated with orange flickers of hellfire, Dean slid underneath the covers, lying flat on his back, a decent eight inches of space between himself and the teen. He was about as relaxed as a plank of wood. 

"Uh, Cas, d'you -"

"I'm going to sleep. Goodnight Dean."

With that, Cas snapped his book shut, placed it on the bedside cabinet, and gave Dean the literal cold shoulder as he turned his bare back to him. 

Fuck. Dean'd screwed up so badly.

He could only hope Cas would be willing to forgive him in the morning. 

\---

'Forgiveness' didn't even _begin_ to cover it. 

Dean woke from a wet dream like no other, all his body heat centred at his groin, skin alive with electricity, sweaty and laid bare in the dark of the early morning. Only after the initial wave of burning lust had passed did Dean realise that his cock was wet with something other than precome (felt suspiciously like lube), and his wrists and ankles had been bound to the corners of the bed by neat knots of strong white rope. He was completely in the nude. 

"What...what the _fuck_?" Heart racing, he pulled at his restraints, breath caught as he grunted his discomfort, eyes darting around the room. Cas was nowhere to be seen, which immediately lead him to two conclusions; a) there was raving lunatic in the house who'd tied Dean to this bed and b) that raving lunatic was one pissed teenager who knew exactly how to get back at his idiotic boyfriend for chatting up a woman the night prior over some autoshop deal.

"Cas!" He yelled out to the darkened room, voice hoarse with disuse. He must've been asleep for a few hours, because the moon was up, pouring the through the parted curtains onto Dean's body, casting the rest of the room in shadow. "Cas you son of a bitch, this isn't funny -!"

"I don't know Dean. I think this is... quite amusing, actually." 

The shadows receded around the slim form of a china-white hand as it came forwards to brush up Dean's bare thigh, where Clarice had touched not hours before, stimulating Dean's boiling skin and making him hiss as fingertips caressed the ridge of the older man's hipbone, only to slide forwards and wrap a loose hold around Dean's half-hard, lubed-up cock. A strained gasp escaped Dean's lips as Cas ran his thumb over the slit, before pulling away entirely. Lava bubbled below Dean's skin. 

"Fuck, Cas, if this is to do with Clarice -"

" _Of course_ its to do with Clarice," there was a smile in Cas' disembodied voice, "But let's not make it _about_ Clarice, hm?"

Out of the darkness, a lithe thigh slipped over Dean's midsection, a narrow hipbone and a smooth, flat abdomen and chest following, the hot length of Cas' own cock settling warmly against Dean's naval. Delicate collarbone-shaped shadows below a long stretch of gorgeous neck followed, joined by the most smug expression Dean had ever seen on Cas' face to date. 

"Let's make it about _me_ instead," Cas' lidded eyes ran hungrily down Dean's illuminated chest as he dragged blunt fingernails around one of his pectorals, drawing a meek little sound from the back of Dean's throat. "...Shall we?"

Betrayal could be goddamn _defined_ by the way Dean's cock pulsed at the low growl of Cas' voice. Look up the word in the dictionary, you'll see a description of Dean's dick, complete with illustrated pictures and labels. ' _See also: traitor._ '

"Cas, I swear to God, if you don't untie me -"

Cas stole the words from his mouth by folding himself gracefully over and capturing Dean's lips with his own. Dean got pulled into the feel of it - that saccharine warmth and blooms of arousal, flower petals opening against his lips, welcoming and soft and deceptively pliant. Lulling him into a false sense of security. A groan left his throat as Cas rolled his ass against the length of Dean's erection, languid, killing whatever protestations had been brewing on the older man's tongue like a trained goddamn assassin.

"See now," Cas pulled away, running his knuckles gently against Dean's cheek, a mockery of a gentle caress, smile sinister and predatory, "That wasn't so bad, was it? No need to get so pissy with me, is there?"

Dean's mouth was agape, eyes wide as he stared at this enigma of savagery and innuendo above him. Sex personified. It ran through Cas' blood - his whole damn _being_. 

"In fact, I don't think you even have the _right_ , to get pissy with me, Dean." Cas pouted in thought, coy, eyes leaving the older man's face to stare into the distance. Like he'd been scorned. "Not since you let that woman put her hands all over you."

"Cas -" Dean started, heart hammering in his chest, cobwebs of sleepiness still clinging to his brain, making it hard for his mouth to make word-sounds, "- you know it was for Bobby. C'mon baby, you know I'd never -"

"I know." Those blue eyes flashed down at him, playful and alight, "But I _enjoy_ having a reason to toy with you, Dean."

Nails scraped harshly over the bumps of Dean's ribs, making him jerk against the mattress as pain flared across his skin. 

"You made me rather jealous tonight," Cas admitted abruptly, voice a quiet murmur - the sound of a babbling brook before it opened up into a roaring river - sitting up straight and reaching back to grip the base of Dean's cock, lissom and fine. "I know you thought she was pretty. Fuckable even."

The soft - holy shit, soft and _lubed-up_ \- skin of Cas' perineum brushed a long line over the head of Dean's cock, teasing and burning hot. Dean threw his head back against the sheets, shoulderblades pulling together as he tried in vain to thrust upwards into that heat. The silky sheets were too hot beneath him, the ropes held tight, and Cas' lean thighs had him trapped. No traction. No leverage. No friction. 

_Nothing._

"And it made me think that, maybe - _just maybe_ \- you'd _forgotten_ all about me," Castiel's tone dipped in sadness as he rocked, shallow, back against Dean's cock and _fuck_ , Dean was right, the fucker _had_ prepped for this, "Forgotten how my ass feels around you when you come."

"Shit," the tendons in Dean's neck felt like they were about to snap, "I'd never forget you Cas, how could -"

A hand clamped over Dean's mouth, leaving his eyes to widen and peer at Cas over the top of the teen's knuckles. 

"Shhhh," Cas cooed, a turn-on more than a comfort, "Its _my_ turn to speak now." 

The teen tilted his head, rocking with a smoother rhythm now, creating a make-shift channel by pressing the flat of his other hand against the crease of his ass and letting Dean's slick cock slide up into it, between his cheeks and his fingers. A muffled moan hit Cas' digits. 

"You'd fuck her like this, wouldn't you?" Castiel pondered out loud, to no-one, every word hail on Dean's eardrums, "Slide your cock up into her, grip her hips, make her breasts bounce whilst she rides you, fuck her hard," - _when did Cas' get so good with his mental imagery Jesus Christ_ \- "But it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be _me_ calling your name. Wouldn't be _my_ nails hooking into your shoulders. It wouldn't be _my_ pleas for you, begging you to let me come."

Dean bit his bottom lip behind Cas' palm, the minimal friction making him buck against his restraints; Castiel's strong thighs almost always kept that perfect ass working in a slow rhythm, however, leaving Dean strung out and unsatisfied, panting against the bedspread. Black edged his vision. 

He wanted to grab Cas by those slim hips and fuck him so hard - _prove_ to him that he was everything Dean wanted. _Needed_. Could ever hope for. So smart, clever, beautiful, coy, stupid, ridiculous, gorgeous -

Castiel removed his hand, running his thumb along the damp swell of Dean's bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. His shoulders drooped with a world-weary sigh as he ran that same thumb against Dean's jawline, down the column of his neck, burning a trail to the divot of his collarbone - a trail that Dean could feel all the way down to his toes.

"I don't know what I should even _do_ with you, Dean..."

"You could fuckin' fuck me." Dean fired back, uncaring about his less than eloquent wording. His dick was throbbing against Cas' ass, slick with lube and precome, and all that mattered right now was getting it somewhere tight and hot and so goddamn _fuckable_. 

"Hmmm," Cas kept working those dangerous little hips, biting his thumb as he turned over Dean's suggestion in his head, "I suppose I _could_..."

"God, please Cas, fuck, _please_." Dean growled, desperation clinging to every word, eyes clashing with Cas'. The teen considered, still rocking, his free hand running down his body to encircle his own cock, like it was a necessary chore as opposed to something to take pleasure from. Blue caught Dean's vulnerable green, and Dean felt his throat go dry and his cock dribble precome.

"Is that what you want?" Cas goaded quietly, pausing his little rocking motions to slip the head of Dean's cock into his entrance. Overwhelming, the sudden heat-relief after minutes of intense teasing sent flares of shock goosebumping their way over Dean's skin, prickling in the moonlight. He refused to shut his eyes as he gritted his teeth. He wanted to watch Cas fight - to see the challenge in his wide, eager eyes. "Do you want to fuck me, Dean?"

"Fuck _yes_ ," Dean spat back, top lip peeled over his teeth in a visceral snarl, "C'mon Cas, you're fuckin' _killin'_ me here." 

There was a pause. 

Then, in one blinding shift of movement, Cas shoved himself down onto the length of Dean's cock, making them both shout out at the ceiling as Castiel started to make the bed springs groan in protest. The teen's fingers would leave bruises where they dug into Dean's shoulder, and his shouts would be heard across the state, they were so loud. 

"Dean -" he gasped, hands free roaming over Dean's skin, leaving trails in their wake, touching everything they could. Playing with Dean's nipples, tugging at his hair, touching his lips, scratching his hips - _everywhere_. "Oh fuck, Dean, _fuck me_ -"

Dean dug his heels in and jolted upwards, meeting Cas' hips with force, wishing that his hands were untied so he could smack that ass raw, wrap a hand around the base of that elegant neck, watch Cas' already wide pupils dilate even further with lust, get even darker; his lips were red from where he kept biting them, flushed from his throat to the head of his cock, nipples peaked, so ready for Dean's mouth. For Dean's hands, tongue, praise - _praise. Verbal kisses_.

“So good for me angel - fuck I’m so sorry,” each breath was punched out of him as Cas bounced, dick slapping wetly against Dean’s stomach, “Wanna touch you so _bad_ 'cause you're so fuckin' gorgeous like this, all flushed and pretty and hot for me - fuck, angel, d'you know how much you wind me up?"

The flicker of a smile flashed briefly against Cas' lips. Dean wondered why, immediately being answered when Cas clenched hard around Dean's cock and pulled up, halting the rhythm that they'd had going and tearing a raw cry from the most primal corner of Dean's body as he nearly came with the intense jolt of pleasure, barely managing to hold back. His hands were balled into fists where they were bound above his head, nails digging crescents into his palms . 

"Yes," Cas panted, running a hand through the mess of hair atop his head, brushing it out of his eyes, "I'm aware."

They paused for a moment, breathing hard, sharing a few quiet seconds. Cas rubbed fond little circles around the bob of Dean's throat, catching some much required oxygen. Their eyes met. 

Dean doesn't think he's ever heard two people laugh so hard at the same time before.

"I can't believe you fuckin' did this." Dean murmured, breath hitching as Cas started up a much less urgent pace, hips driving back and forth in a slow fuck of epic proportions, body nought but a strong line of quivering muscle above him. Cas shrugged his slim shoulders. 

"Had to get back at you somehow," he murmured, legs starting to quake with exertion - he bent backwards (flexible bastard) to pull at a knot at each of Dean's ankles, before reaching forwards to do the same with his wrists, letting the older man's hands and ankles finally slip free. "Figured if your dick was involved, it would make it more of an impression"

"Damn straight," Dean chuckled, clenching his hands and letting the blood circle back before sweeping his palms up the teen's shaking thighs. "But you - you know I'd never actually do anythin' like that to you, right?" 

They were both still breathless, neither having come yet. Cas found it in him to nod his ascent - _yes Dean, I know, I understand_ \- before switching up the pace once again, firing every neurone in Dean's brain at once. 

"Fuck, sweetheart, you keep goin' like that I'm gonna come -"

"That's - the - point." Cas grunted with each thrust, both hands braced against the headboard, mouth falling open when Dean's cock nudged that nub inside, "Fuck, Dean, _right there_ like that -"

Digging his thumbs into those sharp hips, Dean raised his knees, keeping the angle that Cas was so fond of as he used the rest of his stamina to reduce Cas to nothing but harsh shouts and shaking muscle. He flung a hand down to jerk himself off, thick black eyelashes down, supple lips agape and that - Dean wouldn't ever get tired of _that_. Seeing unadulterated pleasure on that gorgeous face, 'cause of _him_. Never mind the fire running through Dean's veins - he preferred watching the fire running through _Castiel's_. 

" _Shit._ " A spasm ran through Cas' body, abdomen twitching as he arched his back, a beautiful play of muscles beneath moonlit skin, pouring each flick of his hips into his hand, "Dean -"

"I'm here." Dean ran a hand over the teen's chest to cup his face, provide an extra touch, another stimulus, "Come, Cas."

On fucking _cue_ , Cas shot his load over Dean's chest, voice ragged and broken as white ropes landed over Dean's chest, throat - even on his _chin_ \- as the teen shook and twitched through it, clenching hard around Dean as he did. 

The older man let Cas come down from it before allowing himself to come, letting Cas settle back, exhausted, into the cradle of Dean's legs as he shoved himself as deep as he could and cried out as he orgasmed, brain momentarily buzzing offline as pleasure hummed through every fibre, ripping him open and bare for all the world to see, holding onto Cas like his life depended on it. 

When the overstimulation became too much, Dean stopped pistoning his hips in and out of that heat and let his body turn to jello against the mattress, eyes tiredly searching out Castiel's. That cornflower blue was just as tired, soft and sated. Not caring about the stains, Dean grabbed a spare pillow that usually got kicked off of the bed and mopped himself up with it, before throwing it the the floor and extending an arm in invitation. 

"C'mere you moron." 

Castiel fell atop him like a sack of bricks, momentarily winding him as he wrapped his arms around the teen's slight frame. Dean managed to shuffle them under the covers, sighing as he settled them. He made sure to pull the thick blue comforter over Cas' shoulders, 'cause if this was what happened when the teenager got jealous, who knew he'd do to Dean if he got _cold_?

"Tha's jus' rude." Castiel grumbled from where his face was buried in the warm pocket of air at the crook of Dean's neck. The older man hadn't realised he'd said that out loud.

"D'you blame me for worryin'?" He joked back, unable to stop himself from smiling. Castiel was a goddamn gift. "I don't know _what_ the hell you'd do."

"It wouldn't stop me from loving you less, if that's what you're concerned about."

Dean blinked. Once more. Then a bucket of ice dropped over his shoulders

Did - did Cas just...? 

Urgent, he turned so that his lips were right beside Castiel's ear, nosing the messy black mess atop Cas' head. 

"What... what did you just say? Cas?"

But Cas was snoring away, lost to the world, leaving Dean to clutch his warm form close and pray that he'd heard correct.

'Cause even if he wasn't ready to say it out loud yet, he was pretty sure that he loved Cas back.


End file.
